New Year's Break
by Kalgalen
Summary: Makeup is not a part of Carolina's training. So when the Mother of Invention hosts her first New Year's ball, CT takes the matter in hand. South is only here to have a good laugh. (Meanwhile the guys are arguing about how to knot a tie. It's just sad.)


Word count: 938

Disclaimer: I know nothing about makeup and I apologize for any inaccurate description. (Also english isn't my first language so I hope I didn't made any big mistake.) Set pre-season 9, before shit went down.

I might write more if people like it, so don't hesitate to leave a comment~

* * *

Carolina knew Hell.

She had lost both her parents at an early age - her mother reaped by the war, and her father to his research. She had pushed herself through a harsh and selective military training to become one of the best, undergone the pain of surgically implanted physical enhancements, suffered the loss of countless brothers and sisters in arms on ruthless battlefields.

She knew Hell. And this was much worse.

"Stop fidgeting!" snapped CT.

Carolina narrowed her eyes angrily, half blinded by the beams of light pointed at her face. She let out a non-committal grumble.

"I'm not enjoying this either, you know." The small brunette actually looked kind of scary as she leaned, raising her tool to her leader's cheeks.

From the corner of the room, Carolina could hear South's bark of laughter.

"You're not? Because I'm loving every minute of it." South continued on a mocking tone: "Our fearless captain, helpless at the hands of little Connie..."

Carolina protested "I'm not helpless!" just as CT was growling "Don't call me that!" - which only made South laugh harder. CT turned once again to consider Carolina with a critical eye and signed.

"If you don't stop making that face, even the best makeup artist of the world won't be able to do anything for you."

The redhead frowned even deeper.

"Why do I even have to put up with that joke?" she complained on a voice that sounded a little to much like a whine to her own ears.

"Don't cry, Princess. It'd ruin all the hard work Connie already accomplished. And you don't want to show up at the first posh party of the ship with raccoon eyes. Gotta seduce the guys with the money. Wouldn't want to have to go back on Earth and stop fucking alien shit up just because we're broke."

South passed her fingers through her hair, that she had for once tamed in a veil of white-gold silk. She was...kind of decent once you got her out of her armor. And Carolina used "decent" only because she couldn't bring herself to qualify someone as aggravating as South of "cute". (She wasn't even cute. If anything, South was a forest fire. Twice as hot and thrice as dangerous.)

CT set a touch of blush on Carolina's left cheek.

"If you had something to say about the ball, you should've talked to the Director earlier. Plus, yeah, we're doing it for money."

"Way to keep it classy, Connie."

"Shut up, South. Carolina, relax, nobody's going to try and slit you throat right now."

They both ignored South's chuckle. Carolina did her best to get her face as expressionless as she could, and let her mind wander to the upcoming New Year's ball while CT continued spreading makeup on her skin.

It had been the Councillor's idea, originally. He had noticed the tension blooming among the Freelancers. Maine's grunts were maybe a little more threatening than usual, and Washington's snark level had definitely increased. Florida and Wyoming's training session had almost ended in blood. The twins' bickering had grown a bit more poisonous, and if mindless scorn was something they had come to expect from South, it was a tad more surprising from North.

When North was starting to send murderous vibes, it was time to sit down and think about ways to diffuse the tension.

So yeah. New Year's break had been the Councillor's idea, but since they couldn't, y'know, just _not do anything_ for a few days, the Director had decided to organize a ball on the Mother of Invention in order to collect funds from rich sponsors. The instructions he gave to his agents for the occasion were basically "Be charming and empty their pockets."

That was this series of unfortunates events and bad decisions that led to Carolina being stuck on a chair in an interrogation room (the only room bright enough to hold a makeup session) at the mercy of a lipstick-armed CT and half-suffocated by the smell of the nail polish South was putting on. The things she'd do for her job.

Finally, after an undetermined but excruciating period of time, CT stepped back, the shadow of a smile on her lips and a satisfied expression on her face. She picked a mirror up from the table beside her and handed it to Carolina.

"Okay. You can look."

Carolina grabbed the mirror, prepared to just take a quick look, go "meh" and put it down. Instead she blinked disbelievingly at her image.

She knew she was pretty. Never had any problem recognizing her own attractiveness. It wasn't an asset for a job where she spent most of her time in full-body armor, it was just a fact. But CT's skills made her look...what was the word? Alluring? Mysterious? Ah yes. _Enigmatic._ The purple shade she applied on Carolina's eyelids only served to bring out the green of her irises and didn't double as warpaints (as Carolina's usual eyeshadow did). All the little scars on her face had been erased with a careful application of foundation. A faint touch of blush accentuated her cheekbones.

Carolina couldn't remember the last time she looked like a human being and not like – well, a soldier.

"Do you like it?"

CT's voice pulled her away from her reflection.

"Hum. I guess it will do," Carolina conceeded.

She felt South's breath as the blond leaned behind her to have a look at the image in the mirror. South whistled appreciatively.

"Lookin' good, boss. Nice job, Connie."

CT snorted.

"Yeah, alright. Now, let's take care of your hair."

Carolina groaned in frustration.


End file.
